“What if I don’t get it?” I don’t remember ever voicing that fear aloud.
“You will. You may have to work for it. Or you may have to be patient. But that crazy, messy love is worth it.”
That’s when I knew, without a doubt, that Trinity was the one for me. I hadn’t been actively searching for a place to live when I’d found my home. I hadn’t been looking for a relationship when Trinity knocked me for a loop with the kiss of a lifetime.
She wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her cheek into my back. “It’s been rough year. Brady focused on Lennox leaves less time for you. Nolan working more at LI with Ash means they both have less time for you. Annika is . . .” She sighed. “Unaware unless she needs something. As is Dallas. Jensen picks his teammates over you. Jaxson is only about pucks and Mimi. So I understand you avoiding family time wasn’t only about jealousy. I watched and hated for you that none of them realized you are lonely and forgotten in this big family.”
I wasn’t surprised she’d caught on to that either. I’d been adrift for more than a year and I’d yet to see a familiar hand out to pull me back in.
And here it was. I grabbed on. “Thanks.”
“It is what I do.”
She started to leave and I said, “Mom?”
“Yah?”
“I’ll bring her to the next family thing.”
Ten
TRINITY
I’d had a vicious headache since my conversation with Genevieve—because you know she’s right.
I’d managed to finish one section on the Stephens piece—slow and steady ain’t an option on this commission.
I’d eaten nothing—you need to lose weight anyway.
I’d had enough of being in my own head. It was mighty crowded in there with doubt, self-flagellation and anxiety chiming in.
I locked the studio, noticing the sunny day had turned gray and windy, the air thick with impending moisture. Yeah. That fit my mood.
In my house, when I checked the messages on my cell, I had four voice mails from Ramon. One from Esther Stephens. None from Walker.
Why are you surprised? You basically told him to give you space. You really thought a man like that would wait around for you to get it together?
“Stop. Dammit. Just stop it right now! I do not need this.”
My voice echoed in the silent space as the words reverberated in my head.
A beat passed. Two beats. Then all was quiet.
I didn’t trust it. Those sneaky doubts hid in all corners of my mind, constantly clamoring for attention. Most days I fought back against them. Some days I didn’t have the mental fortitude.
Enough negativity. Focus on what’s important: figuring out how to apologize to Walker.
After eating a sandwich, I left for the community center. I was earlier than normal, so Chris and Nate—deep in conversation—didn’t notice when I slipped in.
Usually I left the door open, letting the sounds of creativity inspire me. But today I needed to drown out everything. With my wireless headphones in place and techno-pop music on my phone cranked to the highest volume, I got to work.
I didn’t stop or even slow down until the last section of plywood was propped against the wall. After ditching the headphones, I turned in a slow circle for a quick inventory of what I’d accomplished in four hours. Damn. I wished I could be that productive every day.
Two knocks sounded and the door opened. Walker stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Hey. Got a minute?”
My heart raced. Two seconds in the presence of this hunky and formidable man and all the creative ways to grovel I’d conjured up the past few hours vanished. I probably shouldn’t gawk at him, but I couldn’t help it. He always looked amazing. Did he roll out of bed with his hair artfully tousled?
“Why are you staring at me like that? Because I’m such a distraction?”
Ouch. I deserved that. My eyes connected with his. “I’m wondering if you ever suffer from bedhead. I’ll bet your beard even looks sexy first thing in the morning after being smashed into the pillow all night.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You probably don’t have bad morning breath either.”
Walker’s eyes widened and then he laughed. “Of all the things you could’ve said, none of those were in the stadium, let alone the ballpark.”
“I thought you hated sports analogies.”
“If I hated them, I wouldn’t use them. And it isn’t like there are other options.”
“Like from the art world? How about: ‘Of all the things you could’ve said, none of them were in the same collection, let alone the whole museum.’”
He blinked at me as if I’d spoken Swahili.
I sighed. “You’re right. It doesn’t fit.”
He turned and wandered around the room, checking out the scenery. “You’re caught up. You in a hurry to finish this project and move on?”
“I’m just doing what I’m paid to do.” Brr. Way to sound like the ice queen. “This is a side gig. The sooner I get it done, the faster I can return to my real work.” That sounded frostier yet.
Walker’s spine stiffened. “Yes, you’ve made your priorities very clear.”
Truth time. My pulse spiked. “Have I? Maybe you can refresh my memory because I’m drawing a blank.” I paused. “Not that you can actually draw a blank, because the act of drawing, even a single line, changes the composition from nothing into something.” Shut it, Trinity. Do not board the crazy train to Babble-onia this early.
“Do you do that a lot?”
“Do what? Draw blanks? No. I’m so much better at drawing conclusions.”
“That’s not what I meant. Look, Saturday night you seemed fine until—”
“I wasn’t fine, Walker. Not at all.” I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“For everything. When I realized you’d overheard everything Ramon had said about me? That’s when I closed down.”
“So you actually thought I’d be swayed in my opinion of you by what that blowhard said about you?”
“Maybe it was an irrational fear, but that’s the thing about irrational fears—they make zero sense. But I’ve been down this road before—too many times to count. Men run at the first sign of any kind of emotional outburst or drama and Saturday was chock-full of drama. When I woke up after I cried myself to sleep in your arms, I panicked and . . . I have this . . . thing. Where my brain disconnects but, lucky me, my mouth is free to run unchecked without that pesky thing called reason kicking in.”
“I caught that.”
“You did?”
“It’s hard to miss, sweetheart. You weren’t acting like you. Before I could figure out a way to help you, you bailed on me and took away my choice.”
“I don’t know how to help myself. I’m kind of a freak.”
The tension in the air became thicker than the paint fumes.
“Trinity.”
I prepared myself for the “It’s not working out” speech I’d heard my entire dating life, which I always translated to, You are a weirdo and I’m gone. “What?”
“Baby, you’re not a freak.”
I placed my hand on my belly as if I could stop it from churning with hope. “Really?”
“Really and truly.” Walker moved closer and put his big hand over mine. His lips brushed my ear. “Breathe.”
I did.
We stayed like that for several long moments.
He murmured, “Better?”
“Some.”
“Just so you know, I left my running shoes at home.”
I almost burst into tears. He couldn’t have said anything more reassuring. I had to look away to compose myself. But I felt him watching me. Waiting for something. For what? I’d just given him my deepest, darkest secret. “Quit staring at me like you’re still trying to figure me out.”
“I wasn’t trying to figure you out. I was waiting for this, for you to reveal yourself to me—as corny as that sounds. And I’m
sort of stunned that you’ve actually started to open up.”
“It doesn’t sound corny. But I wasn’t sure if you were patient enough to stick around for the big reveal.”
He widened his stance as if bracing himself. “So hit me with it. I’m ready.”
Confused, I gaped at him. “You assume I have more fainting goat behavior to explain?”
“Fainting goat?” he repeated. “You’d better explain that.”
I sighed. “You know those goats that get scared and their response is to faint? Then they come to a minute or two later and they’re like, Whoa, what the hell happened? And then they’re back to normal, ready to eat a tin can? That’s me.”
Walker blinked at me. “You’re a fainting goat, huh?”
“Yep. Sexy isn’t it? Makes you wanna getcha some of this”—I ran my hand down the outside of my body—“baaaad, doesn’t it?”
He laughed. “You make me laugh like no one I’ve ever met.”
“You’re not laughing at me, which is good. And that means you’re okay knowing this about me?”
“That was your big reveal? That your brain goes off-line when you’re stressed or nervous and your mouth picks up the slack?”
“Well, yeah.”
“You thought I couldn’t deal with it?”
“It is weird,” I said defensively. “I’m a thirty-one-year-old woman, so it’s not something I’ll outgrow. This is—”
He put his fingers over my mouth. “You thought I’d give up on you, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know. I’ve never had a guy stick around past this point.”
“What point is that?”
“The point when they decide I’m too much work.”
“I knew going into this that you’d be work. It didn’t scare me off then. It doesn’t scare me off now.”
Right then . . . I kind of loved him.
“Besides, this is new territory for me too.”
“It is?”
Walker touched his nose to mine, then placed a soft kiss in front of my ear and murmured, “I’ve never been as crazy about a woman as I am for you. I’ve never stuck around this long.” He angled his head so I could see his smirking half-smile. “So the question is, are we still on a ‘break’?”
Crap. I deserved that. “Nope.”
“Good. So you wanna go make out in my truck?”
“Ah . . . that was a little random.”
“No more random than you wondering what I look like when I roll out of bed first thing in the morning.”
“True. But I do think about it. A lot.” I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. “Us being in bed together.”
“Are we naked?”
“Of course we are. Have you seen your body?”
His eyes gleamed as brightly as his teeth and then his mouth overtook mine.
The kiss rocked my world, fired my blood, and I suspected the heat from it might’ve singed the inside of my clothes. When he released my lips and started kissing my neck, I clutched his shirt and sighed. “You are so, so good at that.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he rumbled against my throat. “You done here?”
“Yes.”
He stepped back, snagged my messenger bag off the table and draped the strap over his shoulder. Then he clasped my hand in his. “Come on.”
The backstage area was quiet.
We cut across the hallway to the side door that opened into the parking lot.
The humid day had dissipated into a balmy night. The orange glow of the sodium lights spilled across the asphalt. Only three vehicles remained in the parking lot.
When we reached his truck, a chirping sound echoed as he pointed the key fob to unlock it. He opened the passenger door for me and said, “Hop in.”
“You were serious about us making out in your truck?”
“Kissing and making up is the best part.”
“But—”
“Babe, you’re letting the mosquitoes in.” He tapped my butt. “Get in.”
I stepped onto the running board and launched myself into the passenger side.
But I didn’t stay on that side long. As soon as Walker shut his door, he slapped his hands on his thighs. “Sit on my lap.”
“The steering wheel—”
“Will ensure you’ll stay very close to me, which is exactly what I want. Now slide over here.”
Somehow I scooted across the bench seat and settled on his lap without kneeing him in the groin.
He tucked me against his chest and sighed. “Much better.”
“It’s dangerous, us snuggled up like this. Remember what happened Saturday night? What if I fall asleep again?”
“You won’t.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re wired. Just like I am.”
Then he started trailing his fingers up and down my back. My skin broke out in goose bumps.
“So what do you want to talk about?”
“Seriously? I thought we were here to make out.”
Walker started humming “Anticipation.”
“The song that will forever be associated with ketchup, which sucks because it was a good tune.”
“You’re a big Carly Simon fan?” he asked.
“My grandma was. She loved all that 1970s easy-listening music. Especially Carly and JT. The original JT—James Taylor.”
“Do you ever listen to it now?”
While his voice soothed me, his hands were revving me up. My heart thundered, my blood pumped hotter and faster and my thoughts were getting lost in a haze of lust. I tried to focus. “Not often. Mostly because even the classic rock stations on Sirius and Pandora play arena rock. Although one time I did try to set up a station with Carly and JT, Olivia Newton-John, the Carpenters, Bread, Seals and Crofts. It was great for like five songs and then they shoved Simon and Garfunkel in there. I hate their music. It wrecked my happy vibe to the point I slashed through the canvas I was working on with my putty knife. And the other reason it’s not the same is Grandma had a stereo—one of those big console models with the record player on one side and album storage on the other. We listened to whole albums, not just single tracks. So some of my favorite songs were ones that never got airplay and not all LPs have been digitally remastered. There’s a lot of music that’s not cataloged. Someday I’ll take all the albums I inherited from her and have them digitized—”
Walker pulled my mouth down to his.
But what started as a “Shut it” kiss ended with warmth and sweetness that had me chasing after his mouth for more.
He laughed softly. “That’s how I’ll handle it from now on when
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